


if you wrote a story about yourself

by tennesseebedward



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Dates, Fluff, Genderqueer Harry Potter, Other, Sane Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennesseebedward/pseuds/tennesseebedward
Summary: Harry hadn’t been on a date in a while. Hir last date was a disaster of awkward flirting and even more awkward smooching. It didn’t necessarily fully turn hir off from dating, but it certainly didn’t make a case for dating someone immediately afterwards.Then someone had to send Harry a handwritten letter and flowers, asking for hir company later on for Valentine’s Day dinner. Harry then realized two things: that today was Valentine’s Day, and that ze really wanted a nice meal.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Tomarrymort Valentines Exchange 2021





	if you wrote a story about yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saeva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeva/gifts).



> this is my first time writing neopronouns, so please let me know if i need to correct anything!

Harry Potter was many things, but a writer was not one of them. Hermione once suggested journaling as a form of therapy, as it was clear ze would otherwise not go.

“It helps clear your head,” Hermione said. “I write whenever I’m overwhelmed. It’s worth a shot, at least.”

But journaling was a task easier said than done. If ze had to journal, then Harry preferred to have a story to write about. Ze figured it would be easier to manage stress that way, to focus on something other than the issue at hand for a bit. Though actually finding things to write about was proving to be a difficult task.

Really, it wasn’t as though there were big, exciting things to write about on a day to day basis. Harry worked in the mailroom of the Ministry, and sent out letters to various departments. Years ago, ze might have vied for a spot as an auror. Perhaps ze would have viewed the mailroom job as a stepping stone for bigger and better things. But Harry didn’t nearly have as much motivation as ze did as a child. Now ze just struggled to fill out a page or two about hir problems.

Then again, ze might have something to write about today.

Because now ze sat in an extremely fancy restaurant. Harry usually wouldn’t give a place like this a second glance if ze were walking down the street. Ze had bills to pay and Ministry jobs weren’t known for their high salaries. Harry’s date was the one who insisted on the restaurant.

“Harry’s date”. What a weird thing to think about again. Harry hadn’t been on a date in a while. Hir last date was a disaster of awkward flirting and even more awkward smooching. It didn’t necessarily fully turn hir off from dating, but it certainly didn’t make a case for dating someone immediately afterwards. 

Then someone had to send Harry a handwritten letter and flowers, asking for hir company later on for Valentine’s Day dinner. Harry then realized two things: that today was Valentine’s Day, and that ze really wanted a nice meal. 

So ze was now sitting in a restaurant, waiting for an anonymous date to show. 

The restaurant ze sat in was not yet crowded, but, looking at how the waitstaff kept looking at the door, it soon would be. This was the type of restaurant where couples who otherwise skirted around big, romantic shows of affection would go to so they could splurge. 

And the restaurant seemed more than willing to oblige. As ze waited, ze read the specials written on a separate menu, and all the gooey, romantic details they implied. Appetizer: baked artichoke hearts, coated with parmesan breadcrumbs and garlic butter. Entree: two veal cutlets, perfectly sized for sharing, paired with herb-coated potato stacks. Dessert: molten chocolate cake, topped with whipped cream and strawberries. And, of course, all wine was half-off.

Harry frowned and pushed the specials menu off to the side. Ze didn’t want to eat something that overt. It was one thing to flirt with food. It was an entirely different thing to let food be your entire romantic strategy.

To take hir mind off the menu, Harry glanced at the front door of the restaurant. Ze immediately noticed a man checking his reflection in its large, dark tinted windows. Tom Riddle, an up-and-coming Ministry hotshot, kept pushing his dark side from one side of his face to another. As soon as he would fix it one way, Tom would frown and immediately re-do it the other way. 

Harry was a bit surprised to see how tired Tom looked. The few campaign photos ze had seen around the Ministry -- Tom was running in a smaller election at the moment, Harry couldn’t remember which one -- made Tom look much better put together than it seemed like he actually was. From where Harry sat, ze figured Tom was much more tired than he ought to be.

Was he coming to meet Harry? 

He did seem like the type to handwrite invitations to dinner.

If Tom walked through that door towards Harry, ze vowed to write about the night, no matter how it went, into hir journal. This seemed like it would be a story worth telling.

Tom did eventually figure a correct way to style his hair (slightly spiked, with any loose hairs favoring the right side of his face more than the left), cleared his throat, and walked into the restaurant. Lo and behold, Tom sauntered right up to Harry’s table with all of the swagger of a young, ambitious politician. Harry stood up just as he arrived.

“Harry?” Tom asked. When Harry nodded, Tom held out his hand. Something about the gesture made Harry think about campaign rallies and funding. “Tom Riddle. I’m glad you could make it, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry slightly winced at the title, but took Tom’s hand. This next part would make or break the date, so ze might as well get it over with. “It’s ‘Mx.’ Potter, actually.”

Tom’s immediate reaction to the news -- slight curiosity, but mostly neutrality -- was promising. At the very least, Harry wouldn’t have to make up an excuse for leaving quickly. Yet.

“It’s a newer term for a fairly old concept,” Harry explained. It was easier to clarify this up front, if Tom actually was interested in hir. “I’m genderqueer, and I’d rather use a gender-neutral title.”

“Ah.” Tom let go of Harry’s hand. As they sat down, he continued, “I’m guessing the same goes for your pronouns?”

“I use ze/hir,” Harry readjusted in hir plush-covered seat. Ze knew, judging by Tom’s expression, what his next question would be. Ze once again decided to answer it as soon as possible by adding, “They’re neopronouns. Again, new term, old concept. You might be more familiar with ‘they/them’.”

Tom, having now come across a term he recognized, slightly relaxed and nodded. “I am. I’m sorry for before, then.”

“It’s fine. I’m not out at work yet, and I can’t blame you for that.” 

Tom once again nodded, but still seemed apologetic. When a waitress came by to take their orders, Tom requested one of the most expensive bottles of red wine on the menu. Harry had to give it to him: when Tom wanted to impress, he went all out. In another life, he would have made for a terrifying enemy.

But Tom was not his enemy. The wine bottle arrived, and the waitress made a show of opening it in front of them. When it came time to pour, Tom flashed an effortlessly photogenic smile and said he could do it. The waitress nodded and left, leaving Tom to fill Harry’s glass.

“Not that I’m not flattered by all of this,” Harry began, “but I have no idea who you are, and you don’t seem to really know who I am.”

Tom brought the wine up a little too fast mid-pour, causing some of it to splash on the white tablecloth. He, as if on impulse, put the bottle down and reached for something to clean it with. Tom rarely spoke about his past on the campaign trail -- Harry wondered if he was ashamed of it. It would probably be another thing to ask if the date went well. For now, ze waited for Tom’s explanation. 

“Honestly,” Tom said, “I’ve seen you around the Ministry a lot more than you’ve probably seen me. Tending to owls, making sure letters arrive on time. I like your drive, and, well,”--Tom gestured to the restaurant around them--“wanted to see if you liked mine.”

Harry didn’t immediately reply to that. Ze wanted to build up the tension a bit. And Tom was very tense -- sweat beaded around his too-manicured hair. Had he ever relaxed? That might prove to be a problem, especially with Tom’s political aspirations.

But for now, Harry found it charming. Ze grabbed the wine bottle and poured a glass for Tom. 

“I do,” Harry said. “Just make sure you can put your money where your mouth is, because I’m not paying for this wine.”

A sputter of a laugh left Tom’s throat. If he was embarrassed by it, he didn’t outwardly show it. He instead cleared his throat and grabbed his glass.

“To a free drink, then?” Tom asked.

Harry smiled and picked up hir glass. “To a free drink.”

They clinked their glasses together. As they drank, Harry was glad this was the story ze would ultimately journal about. After all, if you wrote a story about yourself, wouldn’t you want a happy ending?


End file.
